Doctor Who: Amy, Captured Ch. 11

Author's Note: Hey, I kept to a release date this time! Good for me! Actually, this one is a little shorter than the others... Hmm...

As usual, my thanks go to Isabel, my love, my muse... And to the less floridly described but still rather excellent Allyourbase. I couldn't keep doing this without the two of them encouraging-and sometimes prodding- me forward. And by this point, even I want to know what's going to happen to Sander...

That makes it sound like I don't already know. Anyway, on with the show. Votes and comments are delicious to me, and I cherish every one, so please don't leave me hanging. Enjoy!

*

Now, they refused even to look at one another, the immortal and his one remaining human companion. Now, they could barely stand the feeling of being in the same room together.

The TARDIS was floating freely in space, spinning through the void with the doors open, Rory absently staring out into infinity. The Doctor sat against a railing at the centre of the control room, back to the human, staring at the opposite wall.

Both were waiting; the Doctor had found what he was looking for, connected with Lysithea. Now, the TARDIS was plotting a course based on the faint psychic link still remaining between the Trine-form and Amy's kidnappers. Of course, as is the way of such things, the trail was too old to follow immediately, and it would take some time before it could be reconstructed and followed.

And Lysithea had ensured that it was not the best time for the pair to be left alone with their thoughts.

Her last act of defiance; to link the two of them as strongly as she could, before pushing them both down the darker paths of the other's mind. She had caught them both at a moment of mental weakness; even the Doctor had been unaware that she could do that. And what they had found...

The Doctor had been largely unsurprised at what he had found in Rory's mind; the clawing, numbing fear for Amy's safety and the horrid anger burning in his heart. But then he had discovered that rich vein of jealousy, discovered that some part of Rory actually blamed him for what had happened to Amy. It hadn't sat well, and he was finding it incredibly hard to voice his discontent. Which was strange, given how much he usually liked to talk...

Rory's hands clenched into fists, hanging uselessly by his sides. The things he had seen... well, there was no secrets, anymore. What the Doctor had termed "distraction" was to Rory merely a betrayal.

It had been bad enough, sinking into the mind of a Time Lord and being dwarfed by the sheer immensity of every thought, every emotion, every memory and regret that the ancient alien had. It had been worse, being seared by the time vortex as it boiled through the Doctor's mind every second of every day.

But the worst by far had been Lysithea's forceful prod into the Doctor's deepest- and very definitely Amy-related- guilt.

Every screen in the TARDIS was still projecting video of Amy, currently on a ship that Rory didn't recognize, naked with her hands cuffed behind her back, getting manhandled by a complete stranger. Rory's fists gripped tighter.

Lysithea's probing malice had revealed to Rory the Doctor's growing, guilty lust as he watched Amy's plight. The fact that it made him uneasy didn't make it any better, especially when it came to light that he had stopped searching on Theros in order to relieve his desire. Every second he had wasted in that dingy club was a terrible betrayal.

Those memories had paraded past Rory; Amy kissing the Doctor in her bedroom- the act that had sparked the shift in how the Time Lord saw her- and the ideas in his mind of what he could do with her. To her... And the idea that she would reciprocate the moment he showed any interest.

Once again, Rory found himself in a tug of war over Amy's affections, even if it was just in his own head. Only this time, after seeing the Doctor's mind, he no longer felt like the better man.

Insecurity...

He had no idea how long it would take the TARDIS to locate the trail they needed, but one thing was absolutely certain:

The end couldn't come soon enough.

*******************

'So... Amy Pond,' Cohen said lightly, tilting his head to one side and regarding her appraisingly. She did not disappoint him. She may have been a slave, but that hardly mattered to him.

Amy looked warily at him, peering out from behind her ginger fringe. Cohen couldn't help but grin; even after twenty years, his brother had really come through for him. And that blonde woman who was with him... Damn. Sander might complain about how his life had turned out, but he'd spent the last few weeks travelling around the galaxy with two gorgeous women, so things hadn't turned out so bad for him. Cohen had met many people in his travels, and he'd seen lives turn out far worse than his brother's had. But none of that really mattered right now. All that mattered was that he was in his room with a beautiful redhead, and he could do whatever he wanted.

'You know...' He began, taking a seat on his bed and motioning for her to do likewise. 'I grew up hearing stories about you.'

Amy blinked,' What?'

'I lived on New Earth, Amy Pond,' Cohen said with a smile. 'New Earth, the second human capital world after the original was rendered uninhabitable. Sander and I were born in New Warsaw, but that was a part of the second British Empire regardless of what the name might indicate. My ancestors came to New Earth on the Starship U.K, Miss Pond. My childhood was full of legends passed down from my grandparents: the journey through the stars, the Beast Below... and the Immortal in the Blue Box, with his young redheaded companion from Scotland. There was never any name attached, but it's become increasingly likely that it was you the stories refer to, yes?'

'Yeah,' Amy admitted shakily. She was so, so far away from home... 'That was me.'

'Ah, this is wonderful!' Cohen applauded. 'A living legend! Of course, everyone in the British Empire has seen you: a few seconds of surveillance footage from the Starship U.K survived... But it doesn't do you justice, Amy. You're much more appealing in the... flesh,' His eyes flashed with some dark indefinable desire that made Amy shrink away.

'What are you going to do to me?' She asked in a vague, resigned voice. The twang of fear ran through her words, and a shiver went down Cohen's spine. Her vulnerability was so appealing; this would be fun.

'Everything my brother has done, I expect. Of course, my time with you will regrettably be shorter than his, so I'll have to make do with quality over quantity.'

'I doubt you could do everything,' Amy said with bitter petulance. 'You don't have the equipment,' Her mind slipped back to the early days of her captivity; of the Arclight system specifically, and the terrible suffering it had caused her. The utter hopelessness of her situation could be so overwhelming sometimes.

'Ah, yes. Sander mentioned. You three went to Nirvana, yes?' Cohen leaned forward. 'How was that?'

Amy swayed on her feet at the memory, lips pursing, 'Um... Intense.'

'I've never been, myself. Although I've always wanted to. But I digress,' Cohen sighed. 'I expect that you'll find what comes next to be... unpleasant.'

'Oh, really?' Amy found the angry sarcasm spilling out of her. 'Was your first clue the collar? Because I've always found it to be a dead giveaway.'

'I'm a Hackett man, Amy,' Cohen said. 'We're bred for amorality. Sander's living proof of that,' His eyes grew cold. 'I don't intend to abuse that Command Collar of yours, provided you can be a good girl for me in return. Can you do that, Amy?'

Something in her snapped. Amy became aware of some vast internal pressure that had been building in her heart for days now with each new humiliation, and the condescending words of this new tormentor had made it explode in a torrent of fire through her mind. Her eyes burned.

'I'm not your fucking plaything, Cohen!' She yelled, immediately regretting it as his eyes narrowed. Cohen leaned back, putting all his weight on his hands, a tiny smile playing at his lips. He looked so much like Sander, just a little further into the future. And maybe a bit more grizzled and unshaven.

'Take off your clothes, Amy,' He said slowly, testing her for a reaction. She stood tall and unmoving, defiantly staring down her potential attacker, for what good it did. She knew that it was pointless, that Cohen was entirely capable of physically forcing her to submit, but damned if she was going to go down without a fight. She was tired of acquiescence, she had to do something, no matter how futile.

Cohen stared, entirely aware of the new edge to Amy's stance. She was in a fighting mood, was she? Cohen didn't know if she had always been like this, if Sander had dealt with this same fiery resistance, but it suited him perfectly well. There was enjoyment to be gained from the struggle, from stripping away her power, what little of it was left. He so rarely got to enjoy moments like this...

'Fine then. If that's the way you'd like to play this; Command: Take off your clothes, Amy.' Cohen shrugged. He knew he'd told her he wouldn't use the Collar, but he could lie, just this once. He liked a little fight, but he'd so hate to damage clothes that Sander had paid for. They looked so nice, anyway, and since Mara had altered the programming on the Collar to give him a provisional access license, it would have been a shame not to use it once and see that helpless despair in her eyes.

Amy moaned sadly as her skirt pooled around her ankles, the expensive fabric sliding smoothly over her skin. She would never admit it, but she really did like most of the clothes that Sander and Mara provided for her; in another place she might have bought them for herself. Such a pity... Right now all they meant was that humiliation was pending.

Cohen's eyes scanned every inch of Amy's body as she stripped, hungrily devouring every flash of pale skin or bouncing flesh. She really was a piece of work...

Cohen stood as Amy stood naked before him, going from a seated position to upright seemingly without any transitional period between the two. Amy shrank away from the suddenness of the movement, suddenly feeling very vulnerable. This was hardly surprising; she was alone with a stranger, and completely naked. And Cohen was grinning like a maniac.

'I'm not going to use that Collar anymore, Amy,' He said hoarsely. 'But the door's locked. No escape, and if you want to fight, be prepared to lose.'

Suddenly her back was against the wall. She hadn't realized it, but she had been retreating from him. She felt her features twist in anger; so, he was giving her the opportunity to fight back, was he? Fine by her.

In the back of her mind she knew that any resistance would be worthless; even if she could somehow subdue the larger man, she still had that Collar around her neck, she was still trapped onboard a strange ship floating in deep space, she still had Sander, Mara and Tsugi to contend with. But with the wrath burning in her veins, with every torment vivid in her mind, and with utter dread boring a hole in her stomach, Amy knew that she would fight.

Cohen swayed away from her first misaimed blow, grabbing her wrist and pulling her forward, using her own weight to send her sprawling to the bed on her stomach. She struggled desperately, growling as viciously as she knew how. But his weight was on her now, and he had pinned both her wrists in the small of her back, pinioning her arms painfully. She felt something soft and pliant slip around first one wrist, then the other. Her arms would no longer move; chained down again!

'I borrowed these from Mara,' Cohen said, stroking one hand down the soft skin of her back, making her buck at the intrusive touch. 'She just carries them with her, I guess. Chambered up and ready to go... Sander's a lucky man. Although I sort of wonder who she was expecting to tie up on my ship.'

'Bastard!' Amy snarled, trying unsuccessfully to dislodge his grip on her. He slapped her ass hard across both cheeks, making her cry out and fall still, teeth grinding together as hot tears fell from her eyes. A feeling of abject powerlessness washed over her and drained right into her soul, but instead of quenching the rebellious fires within it made them flare and glow brighter. Her mind filled with white hot undirected rage at the universe, and black hatred at the man behind her. She bucked again, some deep well of strength actually allowing her to throw Cohen off balance.

He swayed up off of the bed as Amy's back shunted him aside and she drew up to her full height; the effect was negated by her hands being tied behind her, and the simple fact that a beautiful naked woman is rarely frightening, no matter how angry she is.

'Love the fire, Amy. I really do,' Cohen grinned, wavering from side to side. He ducked low, one hand gripping Amy's shoulder as the other swept down into the crook of her knees, lifting her up into a kicking, screaming bundle and dumping her back onto the bed. His fingers wound into her hair, pressing her face into the bed sheets, as his free hand pressed down on her back, just above her bottom to hold her hips still.

'I wonder where I should take you,' Cohen said in a low, deep voice. His fingers slid up to plunge inside her, 'In your pussy? Or-' He pressed her face more firmly into the bed, 'Your mouth? No... too much temptation to bite, as disturbed as you are now. Maybe I should just aim for a much tighter place...' As his fingers continued their stimulation, he ground his crotch against the curve of her ass suggestively.

'What do you think, Amy? Where do you want me to fuck you?'

Amy squeezed her eyes shut and clamped her thighs together, trying to dislodge Cohen's invasive fingers. Against her will, her insides began to heat up and liquefy, her flesh trembling and becoming pliant. She bit back a moan, trying in vain to push away the growing, terrible arousal. Not now...

'Stop t-that, you bastard!' She groaned despairingly, burying her face in the sheets. His hand tightened in her hair, enjoying the sight of the auburn tresses twisting in his grip.

'No no, that's not how this works, Amy,' Cohen growled. 'You have to tell me where you want it before I'll stop. Just let me know how I stick it to you, and we can move on...'

'M-my pussy!' She said quickly, the words tumbling out before her mind had a chance to catch up. She knew what he wanted, knew she had to give it to him. 'Please... Please fuck my pussy... Uh!'

There was no right choice here, only varying degrees of repulsion. Amy knew that she couldn't bear getting raped in the ass again, and the thought of taking Cohen in her mouth was so vile it didn't even bear mentioning. No right choice, only the least objectionable.

'That's a good girl...' Cohen said, petting her hair as though she were some sort of pet. 'And a good choice!' He clapped his hands together, removing the pressure that had pinned Amy down. She didn't move. What would be the point? The resolve to escape was back again, stronger than ever; it was just better to wait for the right moment.

The Doctor would expect nothing less.

Amy jerked, a shiver running down her spine as she felt a tongue run the length of her slit. She looked over her shoulder, seeing Cohen's obscenely grinning face crest the curve of her upturned bottom.

'It'd be too easy just to take you right now,' He said. 'But Mara likes to talk, and she told me some things. I want to make you enjoy this, Amy Pond,' His eyes narrowed lustfully. 'But you ask permission before you cum, understand? If you don't, you will be punished. Severely.'

Amy shuddered in disgust; the word "punishment" still carrying some awful connotations. She didn't know what Cohen meant by the word, and that was frightening, but what was worse was that Mara was around too. And Amy knew exactly what that word conjured in her mind...

'I understand,' She whimpered, dropping her head low. She hoped that it wouldn't come to that, but her body had a habit of betraying her at crucial moments, it seemed.

Wordlessly, Cohen went back to work, tonguing relentlessly as Amy's vulnerable honey pot. She moaned plaintively, a long drawn out whine of defeat that seemed to fill the room for several moments. Electricity crackled up and down her spine and it became harder to think, even to be repulsed by what was happening to her as Cohen's talented tongue drove inside her. So this is what twenty years of perpetual wanderlust and hedonism would do to a person.

Amy clenched her jaw tighter, desperate not to cry out or give Cohen any encouragement. His tongue lapped against her delicate core, sending spasms through her muscles and driving out every resistant thought. Her hands curled into fists, wrists shaking in her cuffs, wanting nothing more than to strike out and push Cohen away. She was helpless; her hips held in Cohen's tight grip, her legs weak and no longer able to support her weight. Her feet slid out from under her, bearing her entire body down onto the bed. She felt Cohen give a throaty chuckle as his tongue circled her rapidly engorging clit.

Cohen grinned to himself as he tasted the first drops of Amy's sweet syrup. He could hear her breath fluttering in her throat, and he could only imagine the conflicted expression on her cute little face. Her juices were flowing freely now, spilling down her thighs and his chin to the beat of the tiny, shuddering bucking of her hips. She whimpered, just once, but the sound was so helpless and wonderful that Cohen had to physically stop himself from taking her right there.

The pressure was building, like water behind the bulkhead of a sinking ship. Amy could feel herself succumbing to it, felt in boiling in her gut, demanding all her attention. She struggled against the cuffs that held her, arms and shoulders shaking desperately, as though it would do any good. Another scorching wave of pleasure stretched to the horizon of her mind. That sinking ship metaphor was only too apt...

Amy could feel her orgasm coming, as though from a long way away. It was roiling, like a thunderstorm, in every nerve ending she had. She fought, tried as hard as she could to push it away, but it was inevitable. He would punish her if she just let it come; she couldn't stand by and let that happen. Shame coloured her cheeks as she thought of the alternative, but then, this was a bad situation all round.

Now, what would be the best way to appease this son of a bitch?

'Please... Sir, please may I cum?' She said in a delicate, wavering voice. As hard as she tried to disconnect from the words and distance herself from what she was feeling, the body was a hard anchor to shrug off. It pulled her back down into it, into the shame and the heat. Beads of sweat rolled down her forehead as she buried her head into the bed.

Cohen froze, a wolfish grin spreading across his face. He could feel the old animal stirring in his heart, slavering at Amy's vulnerability and powerlessness. It knew what it wanted.

'No, you may not,' He said smoothly, getting to his feet. Both hands stroked up her thighs to grip her hips, holding her in place. Amy didn't move, even when she heard his zipper descending, or felt his heat nestling in the moist folds of her labia. Her eyes closed in an attempt to push down the shame and arousal currently racing through her.

The whole exchange had only taken a few seconds, and when Cohen plunged inside of her she had no chance of recovering from the edge of climax. The sudden feeling of fullness almost tipped her into the abyss, but with a great, wrenching effort she was able to stop herself, a strangled, frustrated whine ripping itself from her throat. Cohen's eyes widened as he felt her walls pulse around him.